Look at that shit over there. Five fuckin names besides the Zodiac, and I'm the only asshole postin'. It's bullshit. Bullshit, I say. You lazy muthafuckas. No fuckin' no-pay for none of you. Let's see you pay your fucked up baby's mamas now, beyotches. Beyotches think they gon' get that Link card and not work for it. What the fuck you think this is? Canada?!? This shit here is American made, with a tad bit of Guatemalan, but only a tad. We raise flags, and piss on that shit afterwards, like fuckin' real Americans. We're the fuckin' Toby Keiths of this blog shit.
Damn, I'm feeling patriotic, and horny. Probably a little more horny than patriotic. And who knows, if I had a little more cootchie in my life, I might not be so morbid. But, alas, I don't. And my life is a piece of shit. That's why I do this shit. This shit here is my fuckin' hobby. I do this shit to get my mind off of how fucked up I am. Which is probably why I'm the only person posting. Because I have no fuckin' life. I should have a life, but I don't.
Take today. I went to my shithole job. I half-assed my way through a day's work. Afterwards, I let a co-worker talk me into exercising, some shit I hadn't done in like four or five years. This beyotch had me running up flights of stairs, and powerwalking down the fuckin' main streets. By the end, my fuckin' back was cramping up; my calves felt like they were about to bust; and I was wheezing my way back to where we started. I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. I came off like a complete pussy. And I did it all just to get some crack. Booty crack, that is.
Thing is, my time would have best been spent back at home, in front of the television, watching some bullshit reruns or something. You know, the kind of shit we all used to watch as kids. We may piss on the youngsters, but those little bastards know a little something. Why spend your time outside getting exercise, playing with your friends, doing constructive shit with your time, when you could be at home watching fucked up Japanese cartoons, or courtroom shows, or fuckin' massive amounts of The Parkers and Friends. Trust me. There just ain't too many times where they can show bullshit like that over and over again. I never get enough of that crap.
Of course, when I was growing up, we didn't have such high brow fair. We watched reruns of Three's Company, Mork and Mindy, Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley. Later, there were the Cosbys, and those white people who were related to Michael J. Fox, and Cheers, and Night Court. Man, I miss Night Court. Night Court was one of the funniest shows ever. Actually, Mork and Mindy was pretty funny, as well. Or, at least, I remember it being funny. If I saw an episode today, I probably wouldn't find that shit all that amusing. Nothing is ever as good as you remember it.
Like the Three Stooges. Every kid has watched the Three Stooges at some point. It's part of being a kid. And yet, now, I can't sit through one skit. Maybe it's because I've seen them all so many times. Maybe I just know what'll happen next. You can only watch grown men poke each other in the eye, hit each other with hammers, or burn each other on the ass with irons before you say enough is enough. It's overkill.
Funny thing about reruns though, I very seldom remember the dramas. I mean, you got your Jake and the Fat Man
, your Hawaii Five-O
, your Untouchables
, Fantasy Island
, and other shit like that. But how many dramas can you remember seeing when you were a kid. Not very many, I bet. Of course, this could be because dramas are boring to kids. Only old people watch Walker, Texas Ranger
, or Diagnosis Murder
. Kids can't sit through bullshit like that. In fact, the only drama I can actually remember watching as a kid is the Rifleman. And the thing is, I hate Westerns. But for some reason, I loved this show.
I can't really explain this show because I haven't seen an episode of it since I was a kid. But what I remember, there was this dude played by Chuck Conners. He was a widow and he had a kid he always called boy. Now, the kid might actually have a "real" name, but I don't remember it. I just remember that the Rifleman used to call him boy. In fact, he used to call him boy so much that it inevitably stuck in my young impressionable mind. And now, I call my nephew, boy. He hates it. But I can't stop it.
In fact, if I ever have a kid, and the thing's male, I'll probably call it a boy, too. Of course, that would probably be a bad thing seeing the over 400 years of oppression the black man has suffered through, being called a boy by the white devil and having his fine black woman raped by the savage penis of the diseased Caucasian. I'd probably be reenforcing the racism brought upon the black man by whitey every time I did that shit. But, shit, I can't help. So, there goes the "cause."
Anyway, this show always started with the Rifleman walking down the dusty street, bustin' caps with his rifle that was outfitted with this special trigger so that he could let off rounds like a primitive automatic. I read that he could get off a shot in three-fifths of a second. He'd bust six or seven caps, and then this booming voice would say, The Rifleman
. Afterwards, this cool fuckin' music would kick in.
This shit was the soundtrack of whuppin a mothafucka's ass. I wish I could play that shit in my brain as I walk down the street. I'd be unstoppable. You couldn't pay me to take yo' shit. I'd fuck a man up just for looking at me the wrong way, or like in that old Time-Life commercial, snoring too fuckin' loud. Don't tempt me. I'd slap you upside the head with 10 inches of limp dick. But seeing that I'm a man's man, make that shit fifteen inches of hard Johnson. By the way, no homo this whole section here. Just scratch it out of your brain.
You know, do yourself a favor and just stop reading this shit. In fact, I'll do you a favor and I'll stop typing. I'll just stop typing and you can go on your way to another site with more useful information So, here I go, very anticlimatic, and I'll just stop typing right here